Sunday, December 18, 2011

In his eminently wonderful chronicle of the plight of the homeless in depression era England, Down and Out in Paris and London, the great journalist of that era, George Orwell, ended his wonderful book by saying "I will never fail to give money to a panhandler -- and I will never put another farthing in a Salvation Army kettle."

Orwell's complaint was that, when he was a member of the multitude of homeless in depression-era England of the 1930s, the Christian sect of the Salvation Army, wouldn't give the hungry guys a lousy piece of bread with margarine, unless they endured a long-winded evangelical religious diatribe.

The Salvation Army religious sect is better than that in the USA today.

No question, they help out a lot of people with food, clothing, etc. But their vaunted drug and alcohol religious-conversion re-hab program is an absurd throwback to their idiotic religious past.

I would just -- in the past -- throw a little change into their kettles -- a nice Christmas gesture, you know.

But this year, I actually got to know some of the characters that the Salvation Army hires.

Some are decidedly weird -- some are outright scary.

Chicago Salvation Army bell ringers:
Some are decidedly weird -- some are outright scary

I got to know them while I spent the last few weeks gathering signatures outside of Walgreens' and Jewel-Osco stores, on behalf of a candidate for Appellate Court Judge.

I was standing right next to them, enduring the same bone-chilling cold and soliciting just as they were.

This is what I found:

-- The bellringers are paid employees of the tax-exempt 501(c)3 Salvation Army corporation.

-- They are paid, on the average, $400 a week.

-- One that I met, a black man named named Kenneth, outside the Walgreens at Waukegan and Lake Ave. in Glenview, was spouting wild political diatribes on behalf of Barack Obama (is this the official position of the tax-exempt Salvation Army Church?)

-- Another that I met, a Puerto Rican man, outside the Jewel-Osco at Kedzie and Howard in Evanston told me that he was a "streetwise" salesman -- who had sold a variety of items, including socks, T-shirts and drugs. He also told me that he that many bell ringers carried tweezers, so that if a dollar bill was just sticking up out of the top of the kettle, they could just pluck it out and pocket it. (Somehow, I got the idea that he might have had a pair of tweezers in his pocket.)

-- Another that I met, a rather loud, fat black girl from Lombard, in front of the Walgreens at Howard and Western, on the Chicago/Evanston border, wildly complained when I was smoking my pipe about 5 yards from her, in a fully legal fashion, 15 feet from the entrance -- with the wind blowing the smoke in the opposite direction. She wildly complained to the Walgreens manager -- who essentially told her to go F--- off. Great PR for the Salvation Army (don't ya think?).

A few years ago in Ohio, a Salvation Army bell ringer was convicted of stealing his entirely cash-packed drum.

Having seen the Chicago Salvation Army bell ringers, I am not at all surprised.

No wonder the great English writer, George Orwell told the Salvation Army to go F--- off.

A Word From The Publisher:

About The Chicago Lampoon

Chicago is a very funny city.

In fact, it is a windswept glacial burg that is the source of a never-ending supply of knee-slappers and outright horselaughs.

From the neophyte community organizer that it foisted on an unsuspecting American electorate to the mop-topped sociopathic boy-Governor that it sent to the Letterman show, to its storied depression era, tommy-gun toting philanthropists, it has produced some truly amusing and amazing characters.

It has a Mayor who is a former ballet dancer, who served in a foreign army and who threatens political enemies by sending them dead fish in the mail. It has 50 sleepy Alderman and 5, usually somnolent professional sports franchises

It has two Jesse Jacksons!

It has more potholes per capita than Nairobi, a creaky 1940s-era elevated train system and cops who get caught on videotape punching out bar maids and businessmen.

As we have since 2009, we are only going to report and comment on what actually happens in Chicago. To make up stuff this weird would tax our inventive capabilities to the limit (or at least as high as the, highest-in-the-nation, Cook County sales taxes.)

Meet The Editors

We're somewhere between Burkean conservatives and bomb throwing anarchists depending on the mood of the moment and the amount of restorative libation we have recently consumed.
But we're usually able to couch our maunderings in some pretty good journalistic prose.